I Thought Of Your Face
by SuperCellist
Summary: Roy/Jen. Funny how life and love work–you never know who you're going to fall for.
1. Jen

**Author's Note: **Hello, readers! After becoming totally addicted to _The IT Crowd_ (and developing a crush on Chris O'Dowd), this idea nagged at me until I finally put pen to paper. It's taken a lot of writing and editing, but I think it's finally ready to be published. It's a Roy/Jen pairing, because I love them together. The title is a line taken from Neil Hannon's "Song for Ten" from _Doctor Who_. This is in American English instead of British English, since I'm not familiar with the latter. Forgive me?

One last thing: There's another chapter in the works–it's in the midst of being edited. However, I can't decide if I want to add a third chapter to finish. Let me know what you guys think.

Enjoy!

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**Jen**

If someone had, just a few years ago, told Jen that she would fall for a gangly, geeky Irishman, she would have laughed out loud.

Funny how life works, isn't it?

In the beginning, she'd totally overlooked him. Blind with ambition and hot with anger at the inferior position Denholm had given her, she'd written Roy off (along with Moss) as just another little obstacle in her way. She exerted her power over the two of them as much as possible, sometimes blatantly ignoring them. She made them do menial tasks that she could well have done herself, just to see them bend to her will. She was confident that she'd rise to the top in no time flat.

It started out as a bumpy ride.

She knew Roy was going to be the trouble-maker of the pair from the first few minutes in his company. She'd sensed his outrage at the idea that he needed a supervisor. He was a grown man with his own flat, goddammit; he could take care of himself! (A theory that was, however, silently disputed by a shoe-shaped bruise on his arm.) He'd drawn himself up to his full height and had looked her straight in the eyes, trying to intimidate her. She'd had to admit she'd faltered a bit when she looked back at him, but her ludicrous twinge of fear had disappeared when she took in his attire: jeans and some nerdy t-shirt. Employee at one of the greatest companies in Britain? _Ha!_ After that, all of Roy seemed ridiculous: his curly red hair, slight beard (what, did he _just_ roll out of bed?), long arms and legs, large hands and feet. He seemed like a tall, awkward boy who'd been thrust into a man's world.

Her thoughts rarely turned to him. But that was in the beginning.

As these things are wont to do, Jen's outlook went through some adjustments. Those things about Roy that had seemed ridiculous to her before became things she enjoyed, then daydreamt about. First it was the way his red hair caught in the light. In conversations, she would try to keep him close to a lamp or whatever illumination was handy, just to watch little bits of gold dance around his head. Her fascination with his hair soon turned to urges to bury her hands in it, letting the curls slide in between her fingers. She'd barely spoken to him for a week after he'd cut it, saddened at the thought of all those beautiful locks thrown away like yesterday's jam. (He'd just assumed Aunt Irma was visiting.) After that week, however, she grew to adore his new look.

Jen had never fancied tall men before, being a little shorter than average herself, but she didn't mind craning her neck to gaze up at Roy. With most people he was embarrassed about his height; he was prone to hunching his bony shoulders as if he were a turtle hiding in his shell. She'd tell him constantly to correct his posture–under the pretense of it being more professional–just for the pleasure of seeing him straighten his back and stand lanky before her. She would smile and he would grin crookedly and she would pat him on the arm, holding on just a little too long to be between co-workers, but too short for her liking. Always too short for her liking.

Her little crush gained more and more momentum the longer she stayed on as Relationship Manager. She had really developed a fondness the cluttered basement and its two socially-awkward inhabitants–though her fervor for a higher position in Reynholm Industries hadn't been completely extinguished. It would turn out, though, that a situation away from Roy and Moss–no matter where–just wasn't acceptable. Case in point: that time she became Douglas' personal assistant. She'd missed Roy (and yes, Moss, too) so much that she'd almost cried when he'd greeted her loudly and excitedly on the phone. His accent didn't grate on her ears as it used to; now it made her think of winding stone roads through green pastures where sheep grazed. Even a quick _Hi, Jen_ in the morning put a smile on her face.

By year three she was completely in love with Roy. How it had happened, she hadn't yet figured out. Her moods seemed to hinge on his notice of her, and she couldn't bear him having dates with other women, once in a while deliberately ruining his relationships. Sometimes she'd catch him working quietly at his desk (_how rare,_ she'd joke to herself), leaning forward with his blue eyes focused on the computer screen. She'd stare for as long as she could, crossing her arms over her chest to keep from wrapping them around his neck and resting her cheek on his head. She'd only allowed herself this privilege once–when he'd broken up with a long-term girlfriend (something she'd honestly had nothing to do with) and couldn't stop crying during Moss' game. She'd called him into her office and had sat him down in a chair, for once having the height advantage. He'd been surprised, glancing up at her with the most adorable furrowed brow. As she'd told him to buck up, she'd nestled against his glossy hair to whisper in his ear and splayed her small hands on his shoulders, noticing the muscles bunch under her touch. (She liked to think it meant something.) And that smack on the bum as she let him go? That was just for fun.

Occasionally she reached a quiet valley with Roy. He'd be so sweet that she could try to forget those rough hills. Like that time when he'd encouraged her to take the job as Douglas' personal assistant, to "reach her potential." One of her favorite memories was of him during the Aunt Irma fiasco, watching girly movies with her and Moss, looking adorably ridiculous in a bathrobe and twisted hair towel, trying his best not to complain to her face. She could have kissed him then–she'd been absently wondering, strangely, if he tasted like some traditional Irish dish. But that would have invited a lot of awkward questions from Moss.

So in the valleys she'd hang back and there they'd go, traveling up the hills again. Damn those hills.

There was no explaining her thing for Roy. He was so utterly unlike any guy she had dated–real or imaginary. He wasn't classically handsome (though she excused herself for that train of thought when he brought out the suit and tie) and he was constantly getting into scrapes that she had to, annoyingly, get him out of. He never let her forget she was technologically incompetent. His idea of a balanced meal was a bucket of fried chicken perched precariously on one of his long legs as he fiddled with some electrical device. He was so unbelievably, impossibly exasperating! Yep, it was impossible to explain. But that was love, right?

No matter how inexplicable, every day she was finding it harder to pretend to be just friends with him. There were times when she thought he was showing interest in her in his own weird way, but what did she know? She was too hopeful and too biased. Almost every week Jen promised herself that she was going to _just say it_, but every time she called him in and he asked _What is it, Jen_? while leaning against her doorframe, all she could do was mumble something incoherent while her brain got stuck on the way he said her name (adding a few embellishments, of course). She felt pathetic, pining over him from a distance; she usually was such a dynamic go-getter. Yet this was Roy, and he was…well, _Roy_. One wrong move could destroy their fragile ecosystem, and then where would she be? Stuck without him in a cubicle way up high, that's where. (She'd get fired for breaking the company computers and "overtaxing" the IT department.) That was harder to take than keeping her hands off him when he was so close.

So each day, she'd hang her jacket on the coat rack and greet two of her favorite people, catching Roy's eye long enough to smile and think, I wouldn't trade this for anything.

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I hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I accept good reviews and constructive criticism. I will also accept a donation of a certain Chris O'Dowd to my lonely writer's club...


	2. Roy

**Author's Note: **Here it is–the second chapter. Sorry it took so long, but my editing process has a tendency to go on for a while (I'm kind of a perfectionist). Thanks to all the people who reviewed and/or favorited the last chapter! You're very nice people. I like you.

Anyway, I still can't decide if I want to write a third chapter. Let me know what you guys think once you've read this story as a whole. Thanks!

Oops, I forgot to say this before: I don't own _The IT Crowd_. I'm not making any profit from this. Just borrowing.

Enjoy!

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**Roy**

Roy was most definitely not in love with his boss.

Nope. No way. Not at all.

She was just a friend. Just someone who he spent his entire working day with. Just a woman who was his boss.

_Just a woman who's your boss who has cameos in your little daydreams more often than not, _said the evil little voice in the back of his mind.

Shut up! He snapped. She's just Jen!

_Just Jen?_

Even if he wasn't in love with her (and seriously, he wasn't), he had to admit that statement held water as well as a sieve. He'd been pretty annoyed when Jen had become his and Moss' boss. Admittedly, at first glance he'd wanted her. She'd looked like his type, though a little short. But once she'd explained why she was there (rather pompously, he might add), all thoughts of dating her disappeared. Boss? He didn't need a boss. He and Moss were completely capable of managing their own department–never mind that he'd just been beaten with a shoe. He was _Roy the IT Guy_, firmly stated by his business card–and the fact that he had one spoke volumes about his capabilities.

That was how it had started. That was how this whole thing had begun.

It had taken him a while to warm up to Jen. Not only did she know nothing about computers (or COM-puters, as she was fond of pronouncing it), but she insisted that she was only gracing this mess of a place with her presence for a short while, and that she would easily move up in Reynholm Industries. He'd resented her for that. Resented her for thinking she could do what he hadn't for years. He couldn't let himself make the best of the situation, or even look at the bright side that this was–hopefully–temporary. (It was as if she'd lit a fire in him, giving strength to emotions–a strength he hadn't felt in years.) She was a nuisance.

_But she became more than that, didn't she? _The voice prodded, causing Roy to flinch.

Yes, she'd become a friend. He'd begrudgingly let her in, and found that she could be a good boss and a quick learner. It had taken her all of two seconds to figure out how she could give the IT department a better report with the rest of the company. She'd also become genuinely friendly to him and Moss, asking how their weekends were, filling them in on hers, even joking with them. (He tried to laugh, he really did.) And no, he couldn't forget that she was particularly adept at extracting him from the trouble he always seemed to be getting into. At least _that _he was glad for.

_And…_

Okay. Jen was beautiful. Oh, come on, he was a man, he had needs; he be remiss if he didn't point out that fact. Her femininity was prone to catch his eye at the most random times. Trying to force those two-sizes-too-small shoes onto Jen's feet, he'd been stunned for a few seconds by the slender, pale length of her legs. Another time when she'd ripped off her uncomfortable bra in frustration he couldn't help but notice her curves even without its support. Yes, he was aware that she was one of the prettiest women he'd ever known, but that didn't mean anything. Nosiree, his heart did not beat faster for her.

Yes, she was just a friend, even if he did spend more time with her than he normally did with women he wasn't dating. Besides the fact that he spent all day at work with her (that didn't count; it wasn't free time), he and Jen generally were not doing much separately, and ended up drifting together. He'd found himself at the same restaurant where Jen was having her date with the guy she'd cost a lot of money on that game show–aside from that being Moss' idea, he'd been itching to see what must be the most awkward date ever.

They'd also been known to have late-into-the-night weekend movie marathons, usually at her place, being cleaner and nicer than his bachelor pad. These usually consisted of Roy sprawling his long legs over many available surfaces and Jen falling asleep on those appendages at around two in the morning. Other times they'd go out to a bar and drink, chatting about nothing and anything, or pick up Moss and wander around a mall (of course, making sure Moss didn't steal anything). He especially liked the lunch breaks where they sat on the creaky brown couch and he gave her little crash-courses in computers, using the stuff all over the basement as props. She'd stare at him with wide eyes as he'd get animated, sharing with her his vast knowledge.

_Roy and Jen, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, _the voice teased. Damn it, she was just a good friend, that was all! No amorous feeling involved. _But you get jealous…_

It was true. Douglas annoyed him to no end–he would always find the most ridiculous excuses to come to the basement and bother Jen. While Roy could not deny that he himself had been chauvinistic at times, Douglas' brand of woman-bashing was particularly revolting. Roy tried his hardest to get Jen out of the way when he knew The Boss was coming down, and would find any excuse to never leave her side when the visit was unexpected. He held back on the severe beating he burned to lay on Douglas–he wanted his job, after all; he couldn't let him get to Jen. This protectiveness over her had also been found to stretch to most other men that Jen chose to date. He interrogated her about them (that's what friends did, get to know that part of their life) and made sure she knew what she was doing, once in a while deliberately ruining her relationships. Nope, these men were not competition; she was a friend he cared about who sometimes had bad taste in men, and he needed to make sure she didn't get hurt.

_Good God, how can you not see it? You're totally whipped! You're head over heels in love with Jen!_

No! He couldn't be! He wasn't supposed to! Having a relationship with your co-worker was bad, not to mention your boss! Sure, there'd been that time during Moss' game where Jen had leaned in close to whisper in his ear, and _maybe_ he'd gotten goosebumps, and _maybe_ he'd been overpowered by the scent of her apple shampoo (apples were his favorite fruit, after all), but that didn't mean he loved her. She knew nothing about computers! She got holier-than-thou attitudes! She was constantly trying to make him more _professional_! She would call him into her office to tell him something important, then when he asked what it was she'd get lost in her own little world and leave him hanging! She was so unbelievably, impossibly exasperating!

Weird the way love works, isn't it?

* * *

**AN: **So... Good? Bad? Meh? I love feedback. I'm still waiting on Chris O'Dowd, however...


	3. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** Yes, I know, it's been a long time. No, I didn't forget my readers, it just took me FOREVER to figure out the plot to this last chapter (yes, last). On a side note, I've read through the other chapters, and they're begging to be rewritten. If you come looking for this and it's gone, rest assured it's just me reworking it.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this ending. Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!

* * *

**Epilogue**

She was having a very pleasant dream–a nice reprieve from the previous few nights–when a large, long arm was flung across her face, the wrist landing right on the bridge of her nose, the gold band on the fourth finger narrowly missing her eye.

"Mmph," said Jen. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get back to the dream. "Gerroff." The hand just twitched; rather rudely she thought. "For Crissakes," she mumbled and grabbed the arm roughly, throwing it back to is owner. It hit him in the chest, then slid back down to his side. "Keep your hands to yourself, buster." She could swear he smirked at that. She rolled her eyes and turned on her side, falling back asleep almost instantly.

* * *

It was some time later when she felt a hand creeping under her shirt, fingers drawing on her stomach.

"What did I tell you about those hands?" Clearly not annoyed. Clearly enjoying it, rather a lot.

"You like 'em." Roy's morning voice came from deep inside his chest. She felt it everywhere as he pulled her closer. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling. "Magic hands, you said," spoken against her shoulderblade, his hand exploring more and more of Jen's sensitive skin.

"Glurg," she groaned, saying goodbye to her last remnant of coherent thought.

Roy smiled wickedly. "What was that, dear?" The only response he got to that was one leg twined between his–his hands were evidently working said magic.

Everything was going swimmingly until, it being fairly early in the morning, Roy let out a massive yawn, causing his hand to still and Jen's world to come back into focus.

"Good morning to you, too," she said languidly as the yawn tapered off. She turned to face him and rubbed her nose against his.

"Mornin'." He kept his eyes closed, even when he dipped his head to kiss her. "You're up early."

"You and your hands," she reminded him. He just smiled against her mouth.

Some minutes passed as she gently dragged the ring on her left hand up and down his side, bumping over the hills and valleys of his expanding and contracting ribs. It was a strange thing he enjoyed and while she thought it was like when you drove a toy car over someone's body, the wheels eliciting a warm tingle, it was actually mostly because Roy loved being reminded he'd put that gold band on Jen's finger. He'd never tell her that, though–it would be too embarrassing, too girly.

Finally her hand rested on his hip, her arm tired. "What's on the agenda today?" she asked.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, his brow furrowing. "Really?" he asked incredulously. "It's Saturday. Who cares?" The he made a slow half-smile as she rolled her eyes. "I know you're busy…" His voice lowered a notch as he attacked her throat with his mouth. "…but I'd like to pencil this in."

"God!" she said, half breathlessly and half annoyed. "Is that all you think about?"

"Yes," he replied automatically. "And the name Roy will do just fine."

She sighed. It was either stop him now while it was easy (well, eas_ier_) or stay in bed all day with someone who had a tendency to hog the sheets by wrapping them around his lanky body (probably just a ploy to get her to lean over him). As much as she knew she would enjoy that second option, she had a bit too much energy built up today. Maybe it was the lack of nightmares last night, maybe it was the…well, whatever it was she could already feel the gurglings in her stomach. She was hungry and there was no reason to loiter.

She jabbed him in the stomach with her finger. "Rooooooooooy," she whined. "Stooooooooop. We have to get up."

He sighed loudly against her neck. "Fiiiiiiiiine," he whined back. Just an overgrown child, he was.

"Incorrigible." Jen grinned at him as he rolled out of bed and stood up. He had lines on one side of his face where he'd slept smooshed deep into his pillow. He often slept like that; she was slightly afraid he was going to suffocate himself. She'd discovered this little habit on one of their first nights together, when he'd burrowed his face between her breasts so hard she was surprised he hadn't broken her sternum. Now she generally avoided his head when he was deeply asleep.

She bounced out of bed and stretched, her eyes sliding closed against the feeling. Roy, still trying to wake up, glanced over at her side and wondered how she could be so goddamned beautiful every morning and how he, big, ungainly lump that he was, could be this lucky. He let out a breath and passed a hand over his eyes, trying to dispel those thoughts before they went any further; she clearly was not in the mood for any shenanigans right now. Lovely word, shenanigans.

He shuffled over to her side of the room to retrieve some thick socks that had been flung there on some occasion. He slipped them on his chilly feet, the watched the spectacle of what appeared to be Jen being eaten by their bed.

"I need to use the bathroom, will you heat up a waffle for me?" Jen's voice was muffled as she dug for her own socks. "Oh, and can you set out a blueberry yogurt, too?"

"'Kay," he said. He would move, but the view was too nice.

"And stop staring at my ass!"

He pinched said rear and waltzed, chuckling, out of the room.

* * *

When she entered the kitchen, she found Roy reading a comic book and shoving bites of whipped cream-covered waffle into his mouth with one hand, and playing absentmindedly with a thin white object with the other. He didn't stop reading when she sat down to eat her waffle. "Whipped cream's in the fridge," he said around a mouthful of food, and she glared at him even though he couldn't see. Gross.

A few silent minutes passed as they ate their breakfasts–Roy was too engrossed in whatever he was reading to have any kind of conversation, and Jen just enjoyed watching Roy when he wasn't paying attention.

He'd recently been letting his bright red hair grow out, and it was now sticking up everywhere from sleep. Running her fingers through it had been just as fantastic in reality as it had been in her pre-relationship fantasies. Trying to stop herself from jumping across the table to ruffle his head, she made her eyes travel farther down his face. As the adventure in his comic came to a head, his teeth worried his bottom lip and she suppressed a shiver. When he'd been swooping in for their first kiss–first _real_ kiss, not one of those terrified brushes of the lips he'd been prone to when they'd first started dating–her brain had somehow been functioning enough to wonder what Irish food his mouth would taste like. It had turned out only to be some mint gum he'd been chewing furiously since dinner, and since then she'd been cataloguing many different ones from him as often as she could. (Except for when he ate fried chicken–that turned her stomach.)

As per usual, her eyes were drawn to the ring that matched her own on one of his long fingers. It glinted merrily in the morning sunlight, and her heartbeat quickened. She'd put it there, and in doing so had claimed this man as hers, from the tips of his red curls to the bottoms of his (surprisingly soft) feet. He wore it almost always, unless he was afraid of losing it in some project he was working on. He was completely hers, and the girls on the fifth floor should not forget that. She was a bit surprised with herself–she'd never even thought of love and marriage as a child, and here she was becoming a saccharine mess over a wedding ring.

And suddenly she could hold it in no longer. "What're you playing with there?" she asked, taking a bite of yogurt.

He looked up, a finger holding his place. "What?" he asked.

"What are you playing with there?" she repeated, inclining her head at the object in his hand.

He brought the thing in front of him, seeing it for the first time. "Dunno. Just picked it up. Found it on the t…" His voice trailed off.

She smiled at him and waited. "Um," he said. Waited some more.

"Jen," he began, but his voice caught and he tried again. "Jen, does this say what I think it says?"

"If it says Pregnant, then yes." She tried to sound nonchalant, enjoying watching the wheels turning in his head.

Another few beats of silence while he stared at the word on the little gray screen. "Come on, you crazy…"

She couldn't wait for his brain to catch up. "Yes," she said, ultimately unable to stop the wide grin from engulfing her face. "I am."

She wasn't entirely prepared for how fast he leaped out of his chair, slid a bit gracelessly across the floor in his socks, and grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, my God!" he yelled, swinging her around and successfully knocking all air from her body. "Jen, you're wonderful!" He laughed and pressed his cheek to her hair. "My love."

"Roy," she squeaked, as she needed to breathe. He, however, was obviously not listening. "Roy!" she squeaked again, louder.

"Sorry." He loosened his grip, grinning like an idiot. "But not sorry. Look what we made, Jen!"

"I know." His joy was filling the whole room and it made her breathless again. "You don't care that you touched something I peed on?" she asked jokingly as he rained kisses on her face.

"No," he said between kisses. "Nope." She gripped his hair tight to stop herself from flying away. And after he'd tasted her mouth for as long as he could, he dropped to his knees and pressed his face to her abdomen. "Hi, baby," he crooned in a ridiculous voice that made her giggle. "This is your daddy. I can't wait to meet you." He inhaled her skin. "You know, I love your mommy very much. A whole lot." He looked up at her, clearly trying to hold back some very un-manly tears. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I love you, Jen."

She knelt down, too. "I love you, too, Roy. A whole lot." He held her there for some moments. Even when her kneecaps began to hurt, she kept her head against Roy's broad chest, bunching and un-bunching his shirt in her hands. Soon she had to break the silence again. "We're going to be parents!"

"Yeah!" He thought his face might break with all the grinning he'd been doing this morning. "I have to tell Moss! I have to tell him I'm going to be a father!"

She smiled hugely at his excitement.

"I'm going to be a father!" Roy's blue eyes were shining. "I'm going to…" He stopped, looked at her. "Oh, God." He sank to the floor as a look of pure terror blossomed over his face. "Oh, God–I'm going to be a dad!"


End file.
